


I'll be a hurricane when I grow up

by ohmcgee



Series: ohmcgee's mallverse [22]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Midnighter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, M/M, mallverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6487759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's pretty sure everything is Dick Grayson's fault.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be a hurricane when I grow up

**Author's Note:**

> If you're re-reading this, yes, I changed Andrew to Apollo because honestly I don't know why I used Andrew in the first place. It just bugs me and when I was writing the next part in the series I was like NO HE'S APOLLO. Sorry if it confuses you, but it had to be done. :p

On the weekends, M’s second job is being a bouncer at this club across town called Lit. The dental plan at Starbucks is sweet, but no way in frozen hell does it even put a dent in his massive pile of student loans, so working his ass off at two jobs it is. The place is pretty chill most of the time, he’s only had to toss one asshole out for harassing a girl while she was trying to get a drink, but he enjoyed every second of _that_ , so it’s not like it minded. 

He shows up a couple of minutes before his shift starts and hangs outside to talk to Grace while he finishes his cigarette. 

“Been pretty quiet tonight,” she says. “I mean, I turned a gaggle of dbags away because they asked me if my tits were real, but other than that.”

Those guys had to have already been wasted before they got there, M thinks. There’s no way anyone would fuck with Grace if they had their head on right, not if they were fond of keeping their balls attached.

Grace smokes another one with him before she heads out and the first couple of hours of M’s shift are fairly uneventful. Between groups of people he pulls his copy of _Orlando_ out of his back pocket and leans against the wall, loses himself in the poetry of Virginia Woolf’s words until he hears someone screech his name, looks up and sees all the little misfits from Hot Topic headed toward him. 

“Grayson,” he says, sliding his book in his back pocket. He bites his cheek when he sees what Dick’s _wearing_ , pants so fucking tight M’s not entirely sure he didn’t just have someone paint them on him, paired with a shirt that looks like it could fit a toddler, dark blue with a transparent strip across his chest so M can see the barbell in his nipple.“You know stalking is illegal, right.”

Dick just _beams_ at him.

“You’re missing one,” M says, noticing a distinct lack of bright blue hair and dry sarcasm.

“Yeah,” Dick says, like M just knocked all the enthusiasm right out of him. “He’s busy playing punk rock step-mom or something.”

“Damian has a hockey game tonight,” Tim clarifies. “It’s his boyfriend’s kid.”

“Ah,” M says. He’s trying to picture Jason with his blue hair and piercings and tattoos being all domestic and shit and it’s...actually not that difficult. M figures he has enough experience dealing with children already, it can’t be much worse. 

“Anyway,” Dick says, lighting back up. “I got a new tongue ring. See.”

Then he sticks his tongue out like an idiot and M shakes his head at him, pushes it back in his mouth for him. 

Dick makes a funny face and smacks his lips together and Tim and Roy just shake their heads and push past him, walking into the club. 

“You should come dance with us,” Dick says. “It’s payday, so I’m buying _all_ the drinks.” 

“I know this is difficult for you to understand,” M says. “Because I’ve been in your store. But some people actually have to work when they’re at work.”

“Boring,” Dick says and blows a big, purple bubble at him with his gum. “Can’t you take a break?”

M sighs. Dick’s relentless. He’ll probably stand out here and pester M and play with his new tongue ring until M tells him yes. “I get one in about an hour.”

“Cool,” Dick grins and bounces on his heels. “I mean, I might not remember my name by then, but you should come say hi anyway.”

M laughs and pushes him through the door. “Go terrorize the dance floor,” he says and Dick just winks back at him before he goes. 

 

: : :

 

An hour later M checks his watch and realizes its fifteen minutes past time for his break. One of the bartenders takes over for him since they’re not completely slammed and M makes his way through the club, searching out the red tips in Dick’s hair. He could’ve sworn they were blue last week; maybe it changes withi his mood. He runs into Roy and Tim on the dancefloor and gets caught up there for a while when Roy grabs his wrists and pulls him up next to him.

Roy’s eyes are all fucked up and he’s got glitter all over his shirt from Tim’s eyeshadow and Tim just barely glances at him before he goes back to grinding his ass back against Roy, closing his eyes and tipping his head back when Roy slides his hand up his shirt. 

“Where you going?” Roying asks him and M points over to the bar, to the back of Dick’s head where it looks like he’s striking out horrifically with a cute redhead. 

“Yeah,” Roy says. “But like. Why? You know he’s not --”

“Going to beg me to fuck his mouth ten seconds after I meet him?” M smirks and Roy just grins back at him, looks a little lost when Tim untangles himself from him and skips off to get another drink.

“You know what I mean,” Roy says, sliding up next to him. “I mean, fuck. You think we all haven’t tried to go there? He’s just not ---” 

“I’m aware,” M says tightly. “This really isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Good,” Roy says, then turns around and presses his ass back against him, takes one of M’s hands and guides it to his hip. “Dance with me then, fucker.”

M looks back across the room at Dick, who seems to be busy with yet another redhead, and turns back around, gets both hands on Roy’s hips and drags him even closer against him, starts moving with him to the music. 

“Not gonna make your boyfriend jealous?” He asks next to Roy’s ear and Roy laughs, turns around and slides his hands up M’s arms, wedges his leg between his thighs. 

“The only thing Tim’s jealous of is the fact that I got here and he didn’t.” 

M chuckles, slides his hands down Roy’s back and gets his hands on his ass, leans in to say in his ear, “Yeah, see. I know better than to mess around with pretty, broken things, Roy. You don’t.”

“Tim’s not broken,” Roy says, tilting his head back to look at him. “He’s just --”

But M doesn’t get to hear the rest of Roy’s excuse because Roy decides he’s tired of talking and would much rather stick his tongue down M’s throat instead. M gets lost in Roy’s mouth for a minute because fuck, the thing he can do with his fucking tongue, bites down on Roy’s lip when Roy slips his hand down the back of M’s jeans and starts stroking a finger between his cheeks. 

Five minutes later he’s got Roy on his knees in one of the filthy bathroom stalls, holding him by the ponytail and fucking into his mouth. He’s only got about eight minutes left on his break and Roy knows it, so he sucks him fast and sloppy, jerks himself off while M fucks his mouth and M just grunts when he comes and slams his hand against the stall door, feels Roy swallow and swallow around him, then pull off and bite his thigh when he comes. 

By the time they walk out of the bathroom M’s break is over and Dick’s still at the bar waiting for him, spinning back and forth on his stall. It seems he’s run all the girls off. 

“He’s going to leave with some leggy blonde with a tramp stamp,” Roy says and M pretends like he didn’t hear him, just walks back outside and tries to finish his book.

Sure enough, M sees Dick stumble out of the club about twenty minutes before they close, a bottle blonde with too many rings on her fingers giggling behind him. He doesn’t even look at M the whole time they wait for their cab and M pretends not to notice.

 

: : :

 

Dick slogs his way over to get coffee a little after eleven the next morning, his neck and throat covered in hickeys, looking like he just crawled out of his own grave. 

“Give me caffeine,” he says. “But don’t make anything loud. I’ll just chew on the grounds.”

M snorts and makes him the stupid thing he always asks for, adds an extra shot and forgets to charge him for it. 

“There’s this thing,” M says. “It’s called self-control. Maybe you should look into it.”

Dick just groans and slumps against the counter. “Jager is evil.” 

“Truth,” M says while he wipes down the counter. “I’ve got some pretty heavy painkillers in my glovebox if you want.”

“You,” Dick says, his eyes shining up at M like he just told him he’d buy him a pony. “You’re my favorite person right now. _Yes._ ”

M asks Donna to watch the front while he walks out to his car with Dick, rummages around until he finds the bottle of pills, then tosses it to him. 

Dick swallows two of them dry, then they head back inside and Dick talks him into fucking off for a few more minutes and M spends the next ten minutes drinking really shitty coffee while he watches Dick get the icing from his cinnabon fucking _everywhere._.

“Stop,” he says when Dick tries licking some of it off his elbow. “Just. I swear, how do you even function?”

He grabs a napkin and wipes Dick’s elbow off for him, then picks some of it out of his hair. 

Dick just shrugs and shoves the rest of it in his mouth, spends the next five minutes licking his fingers clean.

“Ugh,” he says, patting his stomach. “I shouldn’t have eaten that. I’m gonna get all puffy.”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” M rolls his eyes. “Your abs are just as ridiculous as your ass.”

“They _used_ to be,” Dick says and leans back in his chair, lifts his shirt up and pokes at his belly. Which is, of course, washboard flat and rippled with muscle, even though M’s about ten thousand percent sure he’s never set foot in a gym other than to try and pick up girls. “I think I’m losing my girlish figure.”

“You’re a moron,” M says, jaw unclenching whenever Dick puts his shirt back down. 

“I’m just saying,” Dick says, dragging his finger through the leftover icing in the little box his cinnabon came in, bringing it to his mouth. “Compared to you, I’m a frumpy housewife. Do you like, live at the gym or?”

M shrugs. “Used to work at the one here in the mall,” he says. “I still teach a self-defense class there on Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

“Whoa,” Dick says, staring at him with a little glob of icing on the tip of his finger. “That’s badass.”

“Nah,” M says. “Just got jumped once when I was kid. Decided that wasn’t going to jive with me.”

Dick doesn’t say anything to that, shockingly. With all the sugar he has in him, M expected him to be pinging off the wall more than usual, but he just sits there for the longest time, just looking at him the same way he looks at the menu some morning, like it’s too early and everything is confusing.

“Anyway,” M says. “If I don’t get back soon, Donna’s going to grind _me_ up and serve me to people.”

“Ew,” Dick says. “You’d be the worst coffee ever.”

“I’ve seen what you order,” M says. “Add enough sugar and whipped cream and you’ll put anything in your mouth.”

Dick’s mouth falls open and his cheeks go a little pink and oops, M really hadn’t meant to go _there_ , but that is kind of a good look for him. 

“Anyway,” M says again. “See you later. Try not to burn the store down again.”

“That wasn’t my _fault_ ,” Dick calls after him as he walks off and M just laughs. He’s pretty sure _everything_ is Dick’s fault.

 

: : :

 

M’s exhausted by the time Thursday rolls around. He had to pull a double Wednesday because Kara and Wally were both out with mono and he spent all last night on his back getting continuously sprayed in the face with freezing cold water while he tried to fix his plumbing problem. So by the time six thirty rolls around, he’s definitely ready to get out of his head for a little while.

“Hey M,” Marina says while he’s taping his hands up before class starts. “We got a new guy tonight.”

“Okay,” M says, wondering why she’s telling him this. New people show up almost every week. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Marina blushes. “He says he knows you. He, uh, asked if he could have a private session.”

M closes his eyes. “Marina,” he says. “How pretty is he?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Marina breathes out and M doesn’t need to know anymore. When he walks out to the main room Dick sticks out like a sore thumb, still dressed in his stupid, ironic black t-shirt and skinny jeans while everyone else is in their gym clothes, leaning back on his hands and rolling his tongue ring along his bottom lip while he waits. He grins at M when he sees him look his way and M just shakes his head.

M introduces himself to the class for any _actual_ new people, then leads them in some stretches. He watches everyone to make sure they’re stretching good enough, tries not to stare when Dick spreads his legs and leans all the way forward, touching his nose to the mat, then starts teaching them all a few basic moves.

After a while, he breaks them all up into pairs, and because his life is just one big cosmic joke, Dick is the odd man out and M has to pair up with him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” M asks as he twists Dick around and shows him a two handed choke hold. 

“Duh,” Dick says, squirming back against him, trying to get out of it and remembering absolutely nothing about what M just spent the last twenty minutes teaching them. “I’m learning Krav Maga.”

“You’re really not,” M says and emphasizes his point by grabbing Dick’s arms and twisting them around to his back, pushing him down to the mat. “If you were, you would’ve gotten out of that.”

“Oh,” Dick says, kind of garbled because his face is smushed against the mat. “You’re heavy.”

“Uh huh,” M says. “Now. What are you doing here?”

Dick squirms beneath him and it’s worse this time because M’s closer, because Dick’s basically on his knees with his ass sticking up in the air and every time he squirms it makes M’s dick that much more interested. 

“I just wanted to see,” Dick says. “It sounded cool.”

Then he _grinds_ his ass back against M and M sucks in a breathe and completely loses his train of thought, releases his grip on Dick’s arms and Dick uses that opening to worm his legs around M’s and somehow flip them over. 

“Pinned you,” he says, grinning down at M as he straddles him. “What do I get for winning?”

“Oh man,” M says, grinning sharply as he grabs Dick’s hips and rolls them, presses his knee right up against Dick’s balls and pins his hands over his head, leans down close enough that he can smell the cookie dough frappuccino on his breath. “You are _so_ not winning this.”

Dick’s adam’s apple bobs when he swallows and M suddenly realizes how they probably look right now if anyone were to glance over at them. He can feel Dick getting hard against his thigh and he opens his mouth to say something, but then Dick is looking kind of behind him and when M turns his head to see what he’s staring at, Apollo is standing over them, his arms crossed over his chest, smirking slightly.

“Having fun?” He says and M lets go of Dick’s arms and stands up.

“You’re back,” he says dumbly and Apollo just smiles at him, bright and blinding, kind of knocking the breath out of M, just like the first time he met him. 

“Just coming to pick up my check.”

“Oh,” M says. “Well. Do you --”

“Have you --”

They both laugh when they start talking over each other like a couple of awkward twelve year olds and M scratches the back of his neck. “This class is almost over. Hang around for a few?”

Apollo looks like he’s going to say no for a minute, but then his eyes soften a little and he says, “Yeah. I can hang out for a few minutes, I guess.”

“Wow,” Dick says after Apollo disappears into the back. “ _That_ was awkward.”

“Yeah,” is all M says to him, then calls the rest of the group back to the center of the room and leads them in a few cool down stretches before he ends the night. 

When they all start shuffling out, M walks into the back to find Apollo in the locker room. He looks as ever bit as gorgeous as M remembers and it’s only been three months, but still, it felt like fucking _years_. 

“M,” Apollo says. “I…”

“I _missed_ you,” M says, stepping into his space and reaching out to finger the soft curls behind his ear. He knows he’s not really allowed to do this anymore, knows it’s his fault everything fell apart, but seeing Apollo after all the time, not knowing if he hated him or what, and then seeing that smile light up his face -- it’s like nothing ever happened. M leans in and doesn’t think, just kisses him. Just brushes his mouth over Apollo’s and breathes in his cologne and the scent of his conditioner and Apollo puts his hands on his chest and about that time the door swings open and Dick walks in on them. 

“Oh,” he says, freezing. “I. Shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Apollo says, giving M a sad smile. “I was just leaving.”

M just stands there and watches him go, knowing that it wasn’t ever going to go any other way. Nothing’s changed, but Apollo will always be his first. He’ll always light up every room he walks into and M will always have that part inside of him that wishes things could’ve gone differently.

When he looks up, Dick’s still standing there, looking like a wild animal caught in a pair of headlights.

“Sorry,” M says. “That was, uh.”

“Yeah, no,” Dick says. “No need to explain. Boyfriend?”

“Ex,” M says and Dick gives him a weird look.

“That didn’t look very ex-y,” he says and M is suddenly not wanting to discuss this anymore; not with Dick, not with anyone. He doesn’t even want to think about it. He just wants to go home and drown himself in a bottle of Pinot and forget everything that just happened. 

‘It’s fucking complicated,” he snaps and Dick winces a little at his tone and great, now he feels like an asshole on top of feeling like an idiot. “Sorry.” He says. “Do you need a ride home?”

Dick blinks and looks a little more like himself, shrugs and drags his tongue ring over his bottom lip. “If you don’t mind.”

On the way to Dick’s place Dick talks non-stop about his day, about all the weirdos that came in the store and how Tim and Roy almost got kicked out of the mall _again_ , talks about anything and everything and M’s actually grateful for it tonight, makes him spend less time in his own head. 

When he pulls up into the parking lot, Dick starts squirming around in his seat, unbuckling the seatbelt and groping around in his pockets until he finally lets out a frustrated huff and swears colorfully and flops back against the seat, frowning.

“I forgot my fucking keys at the store,” he says. “Again.”

“Can’t you call Tim?”

“Not home,” Dick says pitifully. “They’re doing that foam thing at Diablo tonight and he’ll probably crash at Roy’s after.”

“No spare?”

“Nope,” Dick says. “I’m always losing it.”

“Jesus,” M snorts. “You’re a fucking trainwreck, you know that?”

Dick looks at him like he’s kind of offended and it takes M by surprise; he didn’t know the idiot could _get_ offended, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he says, “Fine. You can sleep on my couch tonight. But if you wake me up before ten o’clock you’re going to actually _need_ self defense.”

 

: : :

 

“Holy cow,” Dick says when M opens the door to his apartment. “Your place is sweet, M.”

“This apartment is shit,” M says, dropping his keys on the table inside the door. “You just think it looks better because yours is always covered in six layers of filth and booze and god knows what else.”

“I found a gummy worm stuck in the battery compartment of the remote the other day,” Dick says as he looks around M’s apartment and M totally doesn’t doubt that. 

“Damn,” he says. “You have paintings and shit. Jesus, is that wine? _M._ ”

“What?”

“You’re classy as fuck!” Dick says and slaps him across the chest. 

“Don’t worry,” M says, pulling Dick’s hand off of him. “There’s shitty beer in the fridge for plebeians like yourself.” 

Dick just grins and follows him to the kitchen, drinks his beer while M uncorks a bottle of Pinot and pours it into a glass. 

“Try a little,” M says, offering him the glass. “You might like it.”

Dick shrugs and tips it back, makes a face like he definitely does _not_ like it, but he drinks the rest of the glass anyway, holding it entirely the wrong way, and M finds himself smiling about it, like some kind of fond idiot. 

“Okay,” Dick says. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. _But_ I don’t think I’ve ever hit a buzz quicker. Another!”

After another glass, M grabs the bottle and they head over to the couch, polish off half the bottle as they watch the last half of The Notebook because M couldn't find the fucking remote. After his third glass, Dick turns into a giggly mess, laughing about any and everything. He starts acting out all of Rachel McAdams’ parts and when they get to the scene in the rain, Dick dumps the water from the flower vase on the coffee table over his head, grabs M’s face and kisses him. 

“The fuck are you doing,” M says against his mouth, can feel the water from Dick’s hair dripping onto his shirt. 

“I’m --” Dick says, then he kisses him again, opens his mouth against M’s and M slips his tongue into his mouth by pure reflex and Dick makes this fucking _noise_ that goes straight to his dick, starts moving and shifting until he’s crawling right in M’s lap and straddling him, still holding his face in between his hands. 

“Dick,” M tries to say between breaths. “What --”

“Kiss me,” Dick says and when he pulls back, there’s something unrecognizable on his face. He barely even looks like the kid M knows, always grinning and bright eyed and fucking aloof about everything. He looks lost and a little scared, a little unsure of himself, and it should be enough for M to dump him out of his lap back on the couch and leave him there. “Just kiss me. Please?”

It should be, but it’s not. Because no matter how many lies he’s told himself, he’s wanted this ever since the first day the fucker made him learn how to make some stupid, made up frappuccino that he claimed was on the “secret menu.” No matter how many times he’s told himself he doesn’t get caught up in confused straight boy drama, he’s jerked off most nights thinking about Dick’s perfect ass, about getting his hands all over it, getting Dick’s mouth on _him._

He kisses Dick because he fucking _wants_ to and ignores all the reasons why he shouldn’t. Right now, he doesn’t give a fuck about tomorrow or if Dick freaks out and never talks to him again, he just wants to thread his fingers through his hair and open Dick’s mouth up with his tongue, suck on his bottom lip and drink down the noises he makes when he drags it between his teeth. 

He moves down to suck at Dick’s throat and loves the way Dick whines for it, how he squirms in his lap when M sucks a bruise on his neck, too high for his shirt to cover. He gets one hand up the back of Dick’s shirt and the other on his ass, bites along his collarbone as Dick gasps and his squirming turns into something more like grinding, his dick a hard line against the seam of his jeans, his breathing turning into something more ragged and heavy.

“Just kissing, right,” M says next to his ear and Dick makes a helpless little sound like he just doesn’t _know,_ so M lets him be. He’s totally content to just have Dick’s mouth against his, to feel all that skin under his fingertips, the round curve of his ass cradled in his hand, and maybe Dick doesn’t know what he wants, but he doesn’t stop squirming in his lap either. He moans when M gets both hands on his ass and starts to grind with him while he kisses him, swallows down every little gasp and whimper Dick makes for him as they move together. 

“You’re fucking terrible,” M murmurs against his jaw. “Fucking ruining me.”

Dick makes this little _unh_ noise into M’s mouth when M grabs his ass and _squeezes_ , then he bites down on M’s bottom lip and M’s pretty sure he’s coming in his fucking jeans by the way he’s trembling and shaking under his hands, then when he collapses on his shoulder, boneless, he knows for sure.

M rubs his knuckles up and down the knobs of Dick’s spine, kisses Dick’s jaw and throat as Dick breathes wet and heavy against his neck. 

“Do you want,” Dick tries, sitting up and wetting his lips. “Do you want me to --”

M kisses him again just to shut him up, lays him down on the couch, then peels himself off of him. He goes to his room and pulls out a pair of sweats that are a bit too small for him and tosses them to Dick to change into when he comes back out. 

“Thanks,” Dick says, blushing, and M thinks about how good and fucked out he looks as soon as he gets in his bed and gets his hand around his dick. He doesn’t remember the last time he just made out with somebody like that. His mouth still feels all swollen and numb from all the kissing and he was so hard and wet his boxers were sticking to him when he pulled them off. He thinks about Dick, coming in his pants like a fucking teenager, about him undressing in his living room and pulling on a pair of M’s old sweats and like that, M bites his fist and comes all over his hand, taking deep, ragged breaths as he tries to remind himself it was just a one time thing. 

An incredibly, incredibly stupid, one time thing.

 

: : : 

 

In the morning he doesn’t have to convince himself of anything. He walks into the living room and the couch is made and Dick’s already gone. Hell, there’s no sign he was ever even there. 

M runs his hand through his hair and heads into the kitchen, puts a couple of scoops of coffee in the coffee maker and tries not to hate himself too much as he waits for it to brew. 

When someone knocks on the door he figures it’s the old Sicelian lady from next door wanting him to change her lightbulb again, so he pulls on a shirt and answers the door and sees ---

Dick.

“Hi,” Dick says and M just stares at him. “I got about two blocks before something happened.”

M crosses his arms over his chest, waits.

“I think,” Dick says. “I think there might be something wrong with me. With my brain. And the part that makes decisions.”

M hears someone down the hall open their door and sighs, nods at Dick to come in and shuts the door behind him. 

“I’m not disagreeing,” M says. “Continue.”

“It’s just,” Dick says. “I’ve never been good at...anything. That involves making decisions for myself. I could’ve went to college but I couldn’t decide where or why or -- and Jay picked out my first apartment for me because it was just too _ahhhhh_ , you know? No, you probably don’t know. You have paintings on your walls and a wine cork taker-outer thing in your silverware drawers and like, _food_ in your fridge. You’re the most put together person I know and -- fuck, I’m getting off track.”

“Yep.” M says.

“The thing is,” Dick says. “I’ve _never_ know what I want. What I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, where I wanted to live, who I wanted to…”

“I’m not your camp counselor,” M says. “If you want someone to help you figure our your life --”

“No!” Dick says. “Fuck. Just. Hold on, I’ve got this.” Then he pulls a taco bell receipt out of his pocket that he’s scrawled something on and reads it to himself, though his lips move the whole time and M -- has to bite his cheek to keep from smiling. 

“I like you and it scares me because -- because you know exactly what you want and I never know what I want, but I know that I want you and I want that to be enough.”

M just looks at him for a minute, looks at the crumpled up receipt in his hand, then back up at him. He thinks about how Dick left, how he ran just like he thought he would, but -- then he came back, which he didn’t expect at all. 

“What if it’s not?” M asks and kind of hates himself for a minute for being the one to put that expression on Dick’s face.

“I,” Dick says, swallowing. “I don’t know. Why is this so hard?”

M shrugs. “Life is. So are people.” He sighs. “You know, the only reason I hated you is because life seemed so easy for you. Fucking everybody loves you. And life -- life just doesn’t work like that for everyone. Some of us have to work at it. Some of us _know_ how hard it is because it’s been that way our whole life and we don’t know any different. You -- when I didn’t immediately fawn over you like every other human on the planet, you looked like the world had turned inside out on you. I figured the only reason you were trying so hard with me was because I was the only person who didn’t act like the sun shined out of your ass and it was throwing you off.”

“That’s not -- I mean, okay. At first, I thought that’s what it was too. But Jay says I always think it’s something else at first. I don’t do it on purpose, I just.” Dick huffs out a breath of frustration. “Lots of people don’t like me, okay? Bettie the custodian _hates_ me. My second foster mom, she told everyone I was a demon child because I liked to do cartwheels at dinner. The cable guy, the cable guy avoids my apartment at all cost because one time --”

“Grayson,” M says, blinking. He still hasn’t had his fucking coffee, jesus. “What’s your point?”

“Do you really think I’d kiss you like that if I didn’t like _you?_ ” Dick asks and it’s so sweet, so plain and innocent; it’s so _Dick._ “I like you because you’re different. I like your stupid haircut and all your nerdy tattoos. I like the way you give me shit and the way you make my coffee better than anyone else and I like having your hands on me. I like -- I like that part a lot.” 

“Yeah?” M asks, crossing one leg over the other casually. “And what if I wanted to put them somewhere besides your ass? What if I want your hands on _me_? Are we going to do this every time? Because the hinges on my door aren’t that sturdy.”

Dick huffs again and flops back against the couch, closes his eyes and says quietly, “I don’t know.”

That’s when M gets up and walks across the room, sits down next to him on the couch. “That’s the most sense you’ve made since you got here,” he says and grabs Dick’s legs and pulls them over his lap, rests his hand on his thigh. “Everybody fucks up, Dick. Do I want you to be sure you want this? Yeah. But I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought I was sure about something and then figured out later that I wasn’t. Like I said, people are hard. Life is hard. The only difference is, now you know that, so maybe you’ll stop freaking out and running every time you don’t know exactly what to say or do.”

“So, I know you’re saying things,” Dick says, licking his lips. “But your hands are on me and that kind of overrides everything else. Sorry.”

M chuckles and squeezes Dick’s thigh, watches his eyes get big and dark. 

“Ask me again,” Dick says, looking down at M’s hands, then back up. 

“Ask you what?” M says.

“Ask me if I want your hands on me,” he swallows and M doesn’t say anything, just shifts and climbs up the couch between Dick’s legs, pushes his shirt up and mouths at his stomach. “Ask me if -- if I want to put my hands on you.”

M breathes out a shuddery breath against Dick’s abs, then sits up and kisses him, actually moans against Dick’s mouth when he feels Dick’s fingers skim along the waistband of his sweatpants, wants to say _please_ and _fuck_ but the words just catch in his throat as Dick pushes them off his hips and gets his hand around him. 

“M,” he whimpers and M thinks that’s just the hottest fucking thing, the fact that M’s not even touching _him_ and Dick’s making noises for him. 

“Yeah,” M says, kisses and licks at Dick’s mouth as Dick smears the precome all around and gets him slick. “God, just like that.”

He gets Dick’s jeans open as he kisses him and Dick lifts his hips and lets M pull his jeans off his ass, _whines_ when M spits into his palm and starts jerking him off.

It’s dirty and it’s _hot_ , just jerking each other off on the couch before M’s even had a chance to brush his fucking teeth, and M’s not going to last long, not with the way Dick’s whining for him and fucking up into his hand, not with Dick’s soft little hand getting him off so _good_. 

“Fuck,” M says when he gets close, trying to fuck harder into Dick’s hand. “Faster. God, harder, just --let me.” 

Dick’s good, but he’s not quite there yet and M’s so fucking close and he needs to come _now_ , so he just bats Dick’s hand away and puts his own hand there, jerks himself hard and fast the way he needs it, keeps his other hand on Dick and jerks him off at the same pace, then pushes Dick’s shirt up and grunts like some kind of _animal_ when he comes, striping Dick’s belly with it, and Dick bites his lips and tenses up and --

“No,” M growls out. “You _better_ make some fucking noise for me,” he says and Dick _screams_ for him and comes fucking everywhere, on the back of the couch, all over M’s hand -- hell, some of it even lands on his nipple and he whines when M leans down and licks it off, his hand still on him, milking every last drop out of him. 

“Oh my god,” Dick says, panting like he’d just run a marathon. “Oh my god oh my god.”

M smirks and sits back, looks down at the fucking mess they made of Dick, how completely wrecked he looks. When M met him he didn’t think he could possible get any prettier -- he’s okay with being wrong about that. 

“I’m so gross,” Dick says, frowning, and M just laughs at him.

“So’s my damn couch.” He’s never been happier that he spent the extra money on getting all leather furniture. 

“Sorry,” Dick says, blushing, and M just gives him a _look._ A look he hopes conveys the fact that if he could, he’d be bending Dick over the couch right now and getting it even messier. 

Instead he says, “Well. At least I don’t think we have to worry about it if you liked it or not.”

Dick giggles, still blushing bright pink. “I definitely liked it,” he says, then worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “But...I wasn’t very good, was I? I mean, you had to finish it yourself.”

“Eh,” M says. “You’ll get the hang of it. It’s all backwards for you right now. Takes some practice.”

“I like the sound of that,” Dick grins and waggles his eyebrows and M just laughs at him.

“Idiot.”

“You love it.”

“Wrong,” M says, getting up to grab a towel to clean Dick up with. When he gets back, Dick takes the towel from him and wipes himself off, but then he’s giving him that same, vulnerable look again, biting at his mouth, so M takes his face between his hands and kisses him, slow and deep, and pulls Dick into his lap. 

“You were so hot and your hands on me felt so good, I was going to lose my mind if I didn’t come right _then_ ,” M says, kissing Dick behind his ear. “That’s why I finished it myself. Not because you weren’t good.”

“Oh,” Dick says and shivers, then sits straight up and almost falls on the floor. “Shit! I was on my way to work. Fuck, I was supposed to open!”

M just laughs as he yanks his jeans back up and flutters around the apartment, grabbing his wallet and his jacket. “See?” He says, gesturing to himself. “See what you’re getting yourself into?”

M just grabs him and crashes their mouths together before he grins and shoves him out the door. 

He actually has no idea what he’s getting himself into. But at least it won’t be boring. 

M looks at the come drying on the back of his couch and laughs. 

Nope, definitely not that.


End file.
